


The Shadows In The Past

by SnorkleShit



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Beating, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foster Care, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, NIghtmare! Fic, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnorkleShit/pseuds/SnorkleShit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shadows of the past never truly fade from us, but the light of love and happy times sure makes it seem like it for a little. And maybe that's enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadows In The Past

Seeley Booth was a pretty light sleeper. It came inherent of his childhood, always on alert for those drunken footsteps coming up the stairs. It came in handy a lot of times. the army, the FBI, now with Brennen and the constant threat of some serial killer or another. If he hadn't been a light sleeper, he probably wouldn't have woken to the sounds of thumps and rustling cloths, along with some low moaning coming from the other room. The man was on his feet in an instant, and the disturbance of movement woke up Brennen, siting up and rubbing her eyes. 

"What-" She began to ask groggily, but was cut off by another thud.  
Booth pulled the pistol from his nightstand drawer, and Bones got up and followed him as they crept out the door. 

"I'm going to check on Christine." She whispered, heading down the hallway the other way. Booth kept true, listening. The closer to Sweets' room her got the better he could make out the noises. Taking a deep breath, he threw open the door and whipped up the gun. 

 

The only person in the room, it appeared, was Sweets, in the bed. Nothing out of place. For a moment, Booth was about to move to the next room, thinking he'd misjudged his hearing accuracy. Until that strangled sound rang out again- from Sweets, who was tossing and turning in the covers, shaking. Booth cursed, and tucked his gun in his belt with the safety on. After a moments hesitation, he approached the young man, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to shake him awake. With a start, Sweets awoke, breathing heavily as his eyes flicked about in alarm. His body was coiled and tense, drawn into himself. His frantic eyes locked on Booth, and he relaxed a little, then blushed furiously, turning away in shame.

"Agent Booth I-" He started, voice dry and shaky, but Booth cut him off with a gentle hand resting on his shoulder, eyes kind.  
"Don't lie to me, Sweets. We're closer then that. You don't have to be afraid of me." He said softly. Sweets didn't look him in the eye, but he relaxed a little, still shaking.   
"I'm not afraid, Agent Booth, I'm just….embarrassed. I haven't had nightmares in a long time." He replied, trying to work that professional tone back into his cracking voice but failing.  
"Nightmares are often products of intense trauma, or triggering events that can open up the memories of that trauma. After learning that my mother and father weren't who they said they were, I had nightmares, many of which I hadn't had since I was a teenager." Brennan's voice stated from the doorway, in that both analytical but soft tone she used when she was trying to comfort people. Sweets curled his fists into the sheets.  
"I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep, I'll just get some water and be fine-" He apologized, but surprisingly it was Bones who cut him of as she entered the room and knelt next to the bed, cocking her head to the side and pursing her lips.  
"No, Sweets. The best way to address a reoccurring trauma is 'air it out', as I believe your psychology books called it. I never talked about my nightmares, because I didn't have anyone to talk to. And as I look back, I think that might have been bad for my psychological development. Maybe so, maybe not. But you have what I never did, Sweets. You have us. Me and Seeley, of all people, understand how you feel. I'm sure that Booth had many nightmares about his father, am I right, Booth?" She added, looking towards her partner. He shuffled, a little disgruntled at the mention of his father. His first instinct told him to deny the accusation and keep his male bravado image up at all times. But one look one of his best friends, red eyed and raw, took all the fight out of him.   
"Yeah, I did. Even in the army, I did. No one ever asked, other then my Grandpa. He really helped, I think." Booth admitted. Brennan nodded at the confirmation of her theory, turning back to Sweets.  
The young psychologist stared at his friends, kneeling next to his bedside in concern at three in the morning, and was painfully reminded of how attentive his parents had been, his real parents. Mrs. Sweets and Mr.Sweets had never let him fall asleep without comforting him from his nightmares. But they weren't here anymore.  
But Booth and Bones were here, ready to listen.  
He gulped.  
"My foster father, the one that hurt me, was a drug addict. I don't know how he managed to hide his addictions from the social services so well. I was four when he took me in, six when they found him dead from a heroine overdose and me locked in a closet, suffering from starvation and massive blood lost. He always locked me in the closet after he was done." Sweets glanced towards the closet in the room, open and stuffed with toys. Not menacing in the least, to the eyes of the other two in the room.   
"Done doing what?" Booth asked quietly. Sweets just kept staring ahead at the closet.  
"Lots of things. Whipping me, beating me, making me watch him eat practically a feast while I was forced to starve. He was very creative. LSD does that to you, sometimes. Making me clean the entire house, beating me when I was incapable, considering I was so young. He made me suck him to orgasm once, I didn't even understand what was going on, but it was horrible. then he'd lock me in the closet, sometimes for days. my nightmare…I was in that closet, crying, covered in god knows what, and he was just laughing outside standing over the bodies of my real parents. I don't know why I would dream of that, he never met them, but I suppose I associated my fear of pain and being alone, locked away, with their deaths." Sweets relayed all this information in a distant, pained, off hand sort of manner. Brennen stared at him.  
"Your not alone Sweets. You will always have us, and Cam and Angela, and Hodgins. I know we may not act like it, but we are here for you." She exclaimed, appalled at all the things he described, heart aching for her young friend.  
Sweets seemed to break out of his stupor, and turned to smile genuinely at her.   
"I know. It means a lot to me, it does. I'm so glad I came here so soon after their deaths." He assured her.  
Booth nodded, and squeezed his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes.  
"Your not a little kid bleeding to death in a closet anymore, Sweets. Your the youngest psychologist in the FBI, your our best friend, your optimistic and helpful and patient and caring and a hundred other things. Tell you what, when I finally get around to dying, the first thing i'm gonna do in Heaven is find your parents and shake their hands because they raised one hell of a son." Booth declared. Sweets lip trembled, and his raw emotions just tumbled to the surface, and he began to cry. Booth wrapped his arms around him. Brennen climbed up and joined them not he bed, laying her head on Booth's shoulder and rubbing soothing circles into Lance's back. After a moment, he shook his head, hiccuping.   
"I'm not sad, that's not why i'm-" He stetted. Booth hushed him and grinned.  
"We know, Baby Duck."  
Brennan laughed, and Sweets pulled away, wiping his tears and frowning at him in confusion.   
"Duck?"  
Booth chuckled and slapped him on the arm.   
"Things feel better in the air now, try and get some sleep, okay? Got a big breakfast in the morning with your name on it." He announced, standing.  
Sweets rolled back into his place in bed and pulled the covers over him, nuzzling in to the pillow.  
"Not a duck." He murmured sleepily.   
Booth held back a laugh and dragged Bones out into the hall. She shut the door as quietly as she could, and they climbed back into their bed.  
She rested her head on his chest.  
"That was very kind of you to say to Dr. Sweets, Booth. I'm proud of you." She said.  
Booth smiled down at her.  
"Coming from the atheist." He replied.  
Brennan shrugged. "There is no evidence of any sort of afterlife. But if somehow it does exist….I do hope it does, I mean to say. It is a nice concept, that we will all be together in the end. I for one have a lot of deceased people I would love the opportunity to speak to in person." She muttered, shutting her eyes. Booth shut off the lamp and wrapped his arms around the woman he loved.

And high above them, two brilliant warm smiles were shining down on all three of them.  
If you believe in that sort of thing, of course.


End file.
